


Magic of the Morning

by ughfitz (wokemeup)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Jemma is a morning person, Mornings, sunrise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokemeup/pseuds/ughfitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's always been a morning person, even after everything that happened to her--now it's just for other reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic of the Morning

She’s always been a morning person, the one who’s up before everyone else, savoring those few quiet moments when the world seems still. She’s always found something about that pause in time to be magical, despite the notion of magic being absolutely preposterous. There’s something about the air, the little bit of crispness it has to it, the gentle flow of dust particles drifting softly through the peeping sunlight, that has always fascinated her.

She loves waking up, during the cold winter months especially, to a dark canvas, the stars spackling across the sky forming dozens of pictures that have no true meaning, but mean the world to her anyways. She loves watching as they slowly fade, their brilliance never disappearing, simply taking a bow to give way to the sun’s dazzling performance.

When the sky is caught between those two moments, the vastness of nighttime blue drifting off as the burst of morning color rises to fill the world with warmth and color, is perhaps her favorite. Maybe it’s because she’s always felt like that–always hanging between two phases, that is–the enigmatic daughter who was whisked away when she was just a teenager, and the brilliant scientist with not one, but two PhDs.

Of course, it has also always been a pleasure to witness the bursts of pink and orange take over, their presence lighting up her face with a smile. While the world may be just waking up, her day’s already begun, the rising sun her friend in a time when the space around her is hushed and deserted.

Mornings have always been her favorite, but now, she’s thinks, they’re the best part of her day.

When she was stuck on the godforsaken blue plant, the endless nights were awful, her dark and terrifying nightmares only seemed to continue when she forced her eyes open and was met with nothing but blue darkness.

But now when she wakes up, heart still beating fast from the relentless dreams that plague her sleeping mind, her world a muted haze as consciousness slowly returns to her, when it all falls back into focus, she’s reminded of why mornings are her favorite.

Some would think it’s because she’s finally able to see the sun, the endless blue no longer escaping into her day thoughts. And it’s true, she’s finally seen the sun and she never wants it to disappear.

But he is her sun, she’s a planet orbiting around him, lucky and happy to be a part of their solar system.

She loves waking up to the sight of the sunlight filtering in and silhouetting his slumbering body. She loves looking at the curve of nose, hearing the soft puffs of air fall from his pink lips. She loves seeing his long lashes fan out over his cheeks, the way they wisp out standing guard, ready to protect the deep blue eyes she is so fond of.

She loves watching his chest rise and fall, his breathing perfectly matched to the steady thump thump of her full heart. She loves how peaceful he looks, his features no longer marred with fear and anger, his relaxed state mirroring her own.

She enjoys these moments when the sun casts a warm glow over their bubble, the redness of the sky highlighting their entwined limbs, the air pausing, holding its breath in an effort to not disturb the peace.

And she especially loves it when his nose twitches, his face scrunching in a slow effort to fight off the looming consciousness, before finally giving in and peeking one eye open.

She loves it when he looks at her, like she’s the sun and not the other way around. She loves it when his face cracks, a smile brushing away any of the dreams that ruffled him.

She loves it when they lean in closer to one another, the sun pleasantly casting its warmth across their room, and their noses touch, hers cold, his warm.

She loves that they don’t need to say anything, their eyes telling a better story than even the most acclaimed writer.

She used to crave the peeking sun, desperate to no longer see an empty vastness filtered in nothing but sand and blue.

But really, she wasn’t missing the lazy morning air, or the exchange of bursting colors, she was just missing her sun, him.

She’s always been a morning person, and probably always will. And, she thinks, with him by her side, his body giving off a warmth greater than the sun ever could, that mornings are her favorite; not because of the wonder of the slowly waking world, but because of him.

And maybe magic doesn’t exist, but she will always love the spell that the morning casts, just so long as he’s by her side.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on Tumblr but decided to add it over here for easier viewing. I'm also ughfitz on Tumblr if you ever want to chat!


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